Two is more than enough
by AdrianZ
Summary: She knew this might happen and now it has. (Contains graphic details of miscarriage)


**Thank you to my betas mslupin21 and VesperLogan12 for helping me improve this. I hope you enjoy.**

The sole comfort she can find these nights is in the steady rhythm of her fists hitting the taut leather of a punching bag.

Sleep keeps evading her grasp and the repetitive movement has a numbing effect on her sore mind; it gives her something to focus on other than the thoughts darting through that space in her mind where the reminders glare brightly like mirrors reflecting the sun.

Yet nowhere can she find a reason for the sadness festering inside of her.

The world has been tinted a dark grey, filled with heavy clouds that refuse to burst and wash away the agony.

Still the mask she puts on is impenetrable by even the most heartbreaking things.

As time creeps away, she punches harder and harder, burying pain under more pain, under pain she can vanquish until all that is left is a faded scar in a corner lost to her attention.

Her knuckles are bruised and her muscles burn, it's bad and it will get worse and eventually it will have to get better, because she has only so much energy to spare for getting riled up about inconsequential matters.

The back of her shirt is soaked with sweat.

Warm salty sweat dampening the hair at the nape of her neck, sliding down her face over her cheek and her jawbone, through the space between her breasts, tracing the path his fingertips took dancing over her enraptured skin, making her fall to pieces in his hands.

Warm salty sweat running down her back like warm sticky blood running down the inside of her thighs, every cramp that convulses her lower abdomen forging more pain with gushes of blood drenching her panties.

The pain in her back she just can't breathe through.

It was so much blood, so much blood and it seemed like it would never stop.

Although there is no more blood, she feels that this may actually never stop. The guilt is gnawing away at her bones, punishing her for stepping onto this treacherous slope, because she is running out of time, spinning off the edge. Despite the fact that she had no intention of keeping the child she feels riddled with guilt.

Guilt over being relieved. Guilt for getting what she had secretly hoped for. In her head it had sounded like the least dreadful scenario and now it has happened she feels empty, devoid of anything, as if the life was flushed out of her.

As time passed, it stole from her and a now sense of loss is lodged deep in her chest.

She didn't want to have a child. Children scare her. And she should have known better. The weight of this relationship is crushing her, because he is too much. Too nice, too sweet, too goddamn adorable and its pure chaos.

At this point she wonders why she indulged him in the first place when there had always been only one way for their relationship to go. They have been slithering towards a deadline since the beginning and she is disgusted with herself for letting it get this far. Sometimes people just are too far apart to keep holding on.

Maybe she just wants to let go, plunge her throbbing heart into alcohol and give in to the gentle warmth too much drinking can offer.

Why is it that whenever she needs something, really needs something, she can't have it? She had to not drink in the one period of her life she desperately wanted to.

As a matter of fact, she could have gotten hammered. She could have gone out of her way to lose the baby, but she didn't. She did whatever she could to keep it alive. She did not lose this baby on purpose. After all, it wasn't even a baby yet, it was not a child, just a mass of cells, slimy cells that her body is still spitting out.

Maria is an excellent liar, she is so good at it that he'll never find out and she doesn't want him to. She doesn't want him to despise her for this, but with him lying feels wrong and she doesn't do wrong, not like this, only when the purpose of a wrong action is to make up for a grave injustice.

The pain slams her in the back out of nowhere and then there is the warm sensation of blood staining the pad she is wearing.

Although the lights in the gym are dimmed and the entire room is lulled in a smooth yellow glow she can see Steve approaching.

She carries on punching the bag until he wraps his hands around hers and holds down her arms.

"We had a date tonight and you didn't show. I was worried." he whispers.

Maria turns around slowly, biting down the urge to bend over in pain and softly brushes her lips over his. His eyes reflect the faint light and she could tell him right now, but instead she stashes another secret away from bright blue eyes asking her to give in and confide in him.

She pulls him closer, reducing the space between their bodies to nothing and holds on tight in the hope he won't stop believing.

"You knew that might happen."

Maria isn't sure whether she's talking to Steve or to herself.


End file.
